


Tony-Bee and the Magnificent Mysteries

by orphan_account



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Background Relationships, Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Brain Damage, Brain Surgery, Coma, Dubious Science, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Familial Abuse, Gen, Hospitalization, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kid Fic, Lesbian Character, Maria Stark's A+ Parenting, Medical Experimentation, Medical Trauma, Natasha You Useful Lesbian, No Arc Reactor, Non Consensual Surgery, Psychological Horror, Psychological Trauma, Rich People Are Terrible Just Awful, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Tony-centric
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-26
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-08-12 20:16:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,964
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7947583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony-Bee lives in a great, big house. He likes to read comic books, and his father likes to play tag and hide-and-go-seek. One day, between Tony-Bee going down for his nap and waking up, something very, very bad happened, and Tony-Bee doesn't know what. It's a very big mystery, but Tony-Bee thinks that he can solve it! But can he solve the other mysteries going on...? Read on to find out!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> holy FUCK this is creepy  
> uhhhh #gore #body horror #child abuse #traumatic brain injury #psych horror

In a great, big house with a great, big yard, in the countryside of a great, big country, there lived a little boy.

The little boy’s name was Tony Stark, but everyone called him Tony-Bee. His mama, his butler, his friends, and his daddy, whenever Tony-Bee got to see him.

Tony-Bee’s daddy worked a very important job for a very secret part of the government. Because Tony-Bee’s daddy’s job was so very important, he didn’t have a lot of time for Tony-Bee.

Tony-Bee was pretty much okay with that, though. Tony-Bee liked to play quietly with Legos, old toasters, and his friends. Tony-Bee’s daddy always insisted on playing loud games with Tony-Bee, like tag or hide-and-go-seek or electricity.

Tony-Bee’s mama would sometimes come by, after Tony-Bee’s daddy had decided that he was done playing. Tony-Bee’s mama would pick up Tony-Bee and carry him into the living room, and just sit in an armchair with him on her lap. Sometimes, she would read stories out loud for him, but it was usually just quiet. Just quietly sitting with his mama.

But usually, because of his daddy’s super important job, Tony-Bee’s mama and daddy would leave the house for long stretches at a time. They always left Tony-Bee with their butler, Jarvis, so that they didn’t have to worry.

Tony-Bee got along really well with Jarvis. Jarvis was the one who would make tea for his friends when Tony-Bee had parties with them, and Jarvis was the one who would play with him when Tony-Bee got bored of his friends and his Legos and the books that his daddy let him keep in his room. Jarvis was the one who would read Captain America comics to Tony-Bee, and Jarvis was the one who put Tony-Bee to bed for his nap, and Jarvis was the one who bandaged him up whenever Tony-Bee got hurt.

Sometimes, though, Jarvis would also be busy with cooking or cleaning or something, so he wouldn’t be able to play with Tony-Bee either. Jarvis always insisted that Tony-Bee stay in the sitting room whenever Jarvis is busy, but Tony-Bee knew how to pick locks and liked to go exploring.

Tony-Bee’s daddy didn’t like for Tony-Bee to be in lots of places. He didn’t like for Tony-Bee to go off the grounds, because he was scared of someone stealing Tony-Bee. He didn’t like for Tony-Bee to go on the grounds, either, because he was scared that Tony-Bee would get hurt. His daddy also didn’t like for Tony-Bee to go into the lab, because there was lots of delicate technology there that Tony-Bee could damage, or that could damage him. In general, Tony-Bee was supposed to stay on the first floor, which had the kitchen, the dining room, the sitting room, the parlor, and a lot of other stuff that was very boring.

So, Tony-Bee would go exploring all around the house.

Tony-Bee’s parents’ room was on the second floor, which had one of the only interesting things he found there. The room had a TV, a big bathroom attached to it, and a picture of Tony-Bee lying on a white bed, asleep.

Tony-Bee couldn’t remember a time when he might have been sleeping on a white bed. And the picture wasn’t from when Tony-Bee was a baby, because it looked the same as Tony-Bee looked then.

Tony-Bee marked it as a mystery and filed it away for further investigation at a later date.

Besides the picture, there wasn’t much else on the second floor. There was the yoga room, that Tony-Bee’s mama liked to be in a lot, and the room with the computer, which his mama also liked to be in a lot. His mama didn’t like him to be in the room with the computer at all, because she was afraid that he would break it. The computer was very, very big, so big that it took up basically the whole entire room. The computer was also very, very delicate, so delicate that if you touched it at the wrong place, the whole computer could be broken for more than a year.

At least, that’s what Mama told Tony-Bee.

Mama was very good at computers. Sometimes, she was even better at using computers than Daddy was. Daddy was very good at building computers, but Mama was very good at using the computers to come up with answers to very, very hard math problems.

Tony-Bee was also good at solving very hard math problems, but Mama said that that wasn’t very impressive, because Tony-Bee was supposed to be very good at math, and that he cheated because of his brain.

Tony-Bee didn’t really think that using his brain for math was cheating, but Mama knew best about that kind of thing.

Tony-Bee also wasn’t allowed in the yoga room, because he might break something there, too. His mama said that Tony-Bee was “accident-prone.”

The second floor wasn’t very interesting, besides the mystery. Tony-Bee wasn’t allowed in the two rooms that would be interesting, and all the guest rooms looked exactly the same.

The second floor was the highest Tony-Bee ever got to exploring. At the very farthest part of the second floor, there was a door that was locked very tightly. It had a regular doorknob lock, a keypad lock, and an alarm at the very top.

Tony-Bee had never even tried to pick all the locks on that door, because he was afraid of what would happen if he couldn’t.

He knew that he would get in trouble for it, very big trouble. When Tony-Bee got in trouble Daddy got mad. And when Daddy got mad, he would find Tony-Bee and sit down with him in the sitting room and be very, very mean. Tony-Bee didn’t always remember much of what happened when Daddy got mad, and he didn’t know why.

Tony-Bee did know that it wasn’t very nice for Daddy to be mean to him. It’s very bad to be mean to other people, Jarvis told him so.

But since Tony-Bee could never remember what Daddy did to him, and he always woke up just fine, and Daddy always knew best, Tony-Bee figured it was okay.

So Tony-Bee never tried to open that door.

Jarvis wasn’t busy very often, so Tony-Bee didn’t have to worry about the temptation of the super incredible mystery door. And anyway, Tony-Bee was mostly fine whenever Jarvis was busy. He had lots of books and lots of toys and lots of friends to play with.

By the time Tony-Bee was seven, he had five super ultra mega incredible mysteries in his great big house.

The number one mystery that Tony-Bee had was his memories. No matter how long and how hard he thought, Tony-Bee couldn’t remember anything before his sixth birthday party. He was pretty sure that he was supposed to remember longer back than that, because in the Captain America comics, sometimes Cap and Bucky would talk about what they remember from when they were little kids, even littler than Tony-Bee. And on the radio, sometimes, the radio hosts would talk about memories from when they were five, and when they went to kindergarten.

The second mystery was why everyone looked sad when they looked at Tony-Bee. Like when he would ask Jarvis to please read him a story and Jarvis would look at him kind of surprised, at first, like he didn’t know why Tony-Bee was talking, and then sad, like he felt bad for Tony-Bee because of who he was. Or when Mama would look at him and frown at him, and would shoo him out of the room like she didn’t want to see him. Or when Daddy would see him and take a big drink of the gross apple juice colored stuff that he liked a lot.

The third mystery was the picture Tony-Bee had found in his parents’ bedroom. It didn’t look like it was from before he turned six, because he held it up next to his face in the mirror once and they looked basically the same.

The fourth mystery was the big, locked door on the second floor and what it led to. Tony-Bee knew that it led to the third floor, but he didn’t know exactly what was on the third floor. He knew that it was another mystery, but he would very much like to know what the mystery was.

The fifth mystery was what was in the lab. The lab was daddy’s laboratory, in the basement, and it was very, very big. It was easy for Tony-Bee to get into the basement, since there was just one easy doorknob lock on the door. But the door to the laboratory had a big electronic locks on it, like the one for the door to the third floor, and it was very, very heavy, made out of metal. Tony-Bee was for sure sure that he wouldn’t be able to open it, even if he could pick the electronic lock.

Tony-Bee was very, very good at solving mysteries. So, the day after Tony-Bee’s eighth birthday, he started investigating.

Because both of his parents were home for his birthday, he started with his mama.

“Mama?” He asked her. His mama almost jumped out of the chair she was sitting in, because Tony-Bee had scared her so bad.

“What is it, Tony-Bee?” She asked. And there was that frown again, that meant that Tony-Bee was interrupting her.

“What was I like when I was little?”

Tony-Bee’s mama sighed, long and deep, and gazed out the window. “You were very energetic. You liked to run around the house and give me and your daddy the scare of our lives. And you would always show your daddy the inventions you made. Always so proud of them.”

Tony-Bee twisted his lips. “What kind of inventions?”

“Oh, little robot dogs and remote control helicopters. You raided your father’s lab for materials, and he didn’t like that one bit. But you loved it.”

Tony-Bee frowned, thinking deep. “I don’t remember that. And besides, I’m not allowed in Daddy’s lab. And, I’m not supposed to mess around with computer stuff.”

Mama’s vision suddenly snapped back to Tony-Bee. “No,” she said, all stiff and cold, “you aren’t. You had an accident when you were little, so now you aren’t allowed.”

Tony-Bee frowned again, and opened his mouth to ask another question.

“Not now, Tony-Bee. Mama’s tired. Go bother your father or Jarvis,” Mama snapped. She turned back to the book she was reading.

Tony-Bee stood there in the doorway for another moment, then turned and left.

Daddy was in his lab, and Jarvis was busy with making dinner. Tony-Bee didn’t have anyone else he could interview.

Tony-Bee walked away from the room his mama was in and into the sitting room at the opposite end of the floor.

In that sitting room, there were lots of books that Tony-Bee was not supposed to read under any circumstances.

The books in that sitting room looked an awful lot like the book that his mama had been reading.

Tony-Bee poked his head out the doorway and searched up and down the hall for Jarvis or his mama or his daddy. After he ascertained that he was alone, he walked back to the shelf full of books and pulled one off the shelf.

On the inside page was inscribed, “1962 — 1967” in Tony-Bee’s daddy’s messy handwriting. Tony-Bee knew that this wasn’t the right book, because Tony-Bee was born in 1970.

Tony-Bee delicately returned the book to the shelf and picked up the book that was next to it. This book was inscribed with “1972-1974” in Tony-Bee’s mama’s neat handwriting.

Tony-Bee wasn’t sure if this book would have the answers that he was looking for, but it was from when Tony-Bee was alive, which was closer than the other two books.

Tony-Bee opened the book to the first page with pictures. There were no pictures of him, or any children who might be him. Tony-Bee kept desperately flipping through the pages, but he couldn’t find any pictures of himself.

Finally, on the very last page, Tony-Bee found himself. The picture was faded, black-and-white, and showed him sitting on the branch of a tree with Mama and Daddy next to him. Beneath the photo, the cursive caption read, “Baby Tony on his sixth birthday!”

Tony-Bee knew that that was wrong. First of all, nobody called Tony-Bee ‘Baby Tony.’ Second of all, Tony-Bee remembered every part of his sixth birthday. He had gotten up extra early to help Jarvis make breakfast, and his mama had told him that his pancakes were delicious. His daddy hadn’t gotten up in time for breakfast, but Tony-Bee made him lunch and his daddy thought that it was very tasty. Then, Tony-Bee had gotten to open his presents at dinner.

He hadn’t gotten to go outside on his birthday, much less climb a tree. Climbing trees is too dangerous for little boys.

Tony-Bee then had six super ultra mega incredible mysteries in his great big house, unless he would like to combine his missing memories with this picture of his birthday party.

He walked back to the door to the sitting room, checked for people watching, and goes back to the book full of photos. He carefully peeled out the picture of his definitely fake sixth birthday party and put it in his pocket.

When Tony-Bee went to slide the book of photos back onto the shelf, a very loud alarm went off.

Tony-Bee ran out of the sitting room, just barely in time to see Daddy go running past.

“Daddy!” Tony-Bee shouted. “Daddy, what’s this noise? I’m scared!”

Daddy turned to face Tony-Bee, and his face looked like the ugliest face in the world. He looked like Tony-Bee was something very gross, and he couldn’t barely stand to be in Tony-Bee’s presence.

“Stay the hell there, Tony-Bee!” Daddy shouted, before turning back around and sprinting to the stairs to the second floor. Ahead of him, Tony-Bee could hear someone else going up the stairs, and Jarvis was hurrying behind him.

Tony-Bee knew that this was his chance to investigate the mysteries. He counted to a hundred in his head, which only took twelve seconds, so he counted to five hundred before he followed.

The alarm was still going off as Tony-Bee silently climbed the stairs. He followed the sound of the alarm as it grew louder, and when it cut off, Tony-Bee realized what the alarm was for.

The alarm was for the super-big metal door with the electronic lock.

Tony-Bee ran through the halls to the big door. It took him four counts to a hundred to get there, and when he finally did, the door was wide open.

Tony-Bee froze just outside the doorway, staring up at the staircase to the third floor. It looked just as big and beautiful as the one to the second floor, and Tony-Bee couldn’t understand why it had been blocked off. Daddy would sometimes get rid of things that weren’t pretty, but this staircase was very pretty. Tony-Bee didn’t understand.

He didn’t need to understand why the staircase was blocked off, though. That was a mystery for another day. Today’s mystery was what was at the top of the stairs, and that was what Tony-Bee was going to find out.

As Tony-Bee climbed the stairs, he began to hear a terrible, awful, dreadful wailing. It got louder and louder, and as Tony-Bee finally reached the third floor, he thought that it couldn’t get any louder.

He was wrong, though. The terrible, awful, dreadful wailing got louder and louder as Tony-Bee walked around searching for the source of it. It was even louder than the alarm had been!

Finally, after thirteen counts to one hundred and accidentally walking into three really dusty rooms with sheets over all the furniture, Tony-Bee finally found the source of the screaming.

It was a very small room, maybe the size of the computer room, and it had only three things and six people in it.

It had a small, white bed, a bag of clear liquid hanging on what looked to Tony-Bee like a coat rack, and a block of weird computer-y looking things. There was a screen on the very top one, a screen like on Tony-Bee’s TV, and the screen was showing lots of very narrow, very tall green mountains. The machine was also making a noise like ‘beep-beep-beep-beep’ very quickly.

The six people in it were Tony-Bee, Jarvis, Mama, Daddy, a very old woman who was wearing an apron with a red plus on it, and—

And there, on the small white bed, was a little boy who looked an awful lot like how Tony-Bee looked.

“Jarvis?” Tony-Bee asked quietly. “Jarvis, who’s that?”

Jarvis’s and Daddy’s and Mama’s heads all whipped over quick-smart to stare at Tony-Bee.

“God dammit,” Daddy muttered angrily, “I told you to stay where you were!”

Mama looked like she’d seen something gross. “Get it out of here.”

“It’s done,” Daddy said, nodding.

The old lady didn’t look over at Tony-Bee even once. She was busy staring at the fake Tony-Bee, who was lying on the bed and screaming.

“J-Jarvis?” Tony-Bee tried.

Jarvis wasn’t angry at Tony-Bee, at least, and he didn’t look like he’d seen something gross, but he didn’t argue with Mama and Daddy. He walked over to Tony-Bee and picked him up.

“Please keep me updated, sir, madam,” he said, bowing out of the room, still holding on to Tony-Bee.

“Jarvis?” Tony-Bee asked. “Jarvis, who was that boy on the bed? Why’s he look like me? Why’s he screaming? How long has he been here? What’s going on?”

“Hush,” Jarvis said. “Everything will be alright, Tony-Bee.”

“But-”

Jarvis glared at Tony-Bee, the way Jarvis glared whenever Tony-Bee accidentally broke something or Jarvis caught him exploring.

“Hush.”

Tony-Bee stopped talking. He stayed quiet as Jarvis carried him down the third floor, through the second floor, down the stairs, through the first floor, and down to the basement.

But when Jarvis turned to the lab’s door, Tony-Bee knew that he had to speak up.

“Jarvis,” he said anxiously, “I’m not allowed in the lab, Jarvis. I might break something, and if I break something, Daddy might get mad. I’m not allowed.”

“Your father,” Jarvis began, as he typed in the number code with shaky fingers, “has given me express permission to allow you into the laboratory under these circumstances.” Jarvis growled as the keypad disallowed him access, and began a second attempt.

“But _what_ circumstances, Jarvis? What’s going on? I don’t get it. Why’s that kid look like me?”

The keypad beeped in the affirmative as Tony-Bee asked his questions.

“Everything will be alright,” Jarvis said again, voice unsteady. “There’s nothing to fear.”

But as Jarvis walked into the lab, Tony-Bee couldn’t help but feel that there was a lot to fear. The laboratory wasn’t very well-lit, and Tony-Bee kept hearing weird noises coming from all around, noises like _beep_ and _tick_ and _boop_.

“Jarvis, I’m scared,” Tony-Bee whimpered. But Jarvis didn’t answer.

Tony-Bee looked all around the lab, since Jarvis proved to be feeling antisocial. He could see all the robots that his daddy was working on, and some of them looked very, very human.

There was even a human looking robot hanging from the ceiling. Tony-Bee thought that it was probably his height, three foot ten, but it was hard to tell in the darkened space.

Far to the right of the space, Tony-Bee could see super mega ginormous robots that looked like tanks and airplanes. He knew about those kinds of robots. Those kinds of robots were called “smart weapons.”

But when Tony-Bee looked to the left, he saw something that was probably the scariest thing he had ever seen.

The left wall was lined with tall, green, see-through cylinders. They had dim lights behind them, which meant that Tony-Bee could see what was inside the cylinders.

And inside the cylinders were pieces of humans.

In the first one Tony-Bee noticed, there was what looked like a human if all the inside stuff were gone. It was being held up on a hook, and Tony-Bee could see where the bones and the muscles and the organs would be, and he could even see the wall behind the cylinders because the skin was so thin. But the absolute very scariest part of the skin was the face. The face was the part that was hung up on the hook, through the holes where the nostrils would be, and the holes where the eyes would be were the emptiest thing Tony-Bee had ever seen. The eye holes were just there, against the nothingness, and Tony-Bee could feel them staring at him.

Tony-Bee didn’t think that there was anything in the next cylinder, but when he looked closer, he saw that it was filled with teeth and eyeballs. The eyeballs all seemed to follow Tony-Bee and Jarvis, and the teeth kept clacking against the glass and making a horrible ticking noise.

The third cylinder looked different than the others. It wasn’t green, it was orange— which is a very silly thing for it to have been. Tony-Bee realized quickly, though, that the orange cylinder was actually a green cylinder. It was just filled to the brim with blood, so Tony-Bee had thought that it was orange! And there were some very odd shapes floating about, snake shapes, which Tony-Bee thought best not to question.

The fourth cylinder, which was the second from the end of the cylinder wall, was filled with arms and legs, cut off at the shoulder and hip. That part wasn’t very gross. The very gross part was that none of the arms or legs had any skin. They were just arms and legs that had nothing to protect the muscles inside.

The very scary thing was in the very last cylinder. Tony-Bee only caught a quick glimpse of it, because Jarvis turned the corner right after it, but he knew that he would never ever forget it. Inside the last cylinder, there had been a kind of fake boy.

Not a fake boy like the boy on the third floor, because at least that one had all his parts together. The fake boy in the cylinder looked wrong. His legs looked like the stuffing was in backwards, and his eyes were mismatched, and he was leaking blood, and his skin looked like it was about to burst.

“Jarvis,” Tony-Bee asked, voice wavering, “what’s going on?”

“Everything will be alright,” Jarvis said again, without a hint of emotion.

“But why was that thing in the cylinder? Why were the cylinders full of body parts? Who was that boy on the third floor, and what’s going on!” Tony-Bee said, voice rising to a cacophony. “Where are you taking me! Why won’t anyone tell me what’s happening! What was Daddy doing down here! How long has that boy been on the third floor! Why did he look like me! What’s! Going! On!”

“Tony-Bee,” Jarvis said, calmly, “when I say that everything is going to be alright, I mean it. It’s not time for us to answer your questions yet.”

Jarvis came to the end of his path and gently tucked Tony into a yellow cylinder with a crack at the top. “Don’t you worry. Everything will be alright.”

Tony-Bee glared at Jarvis. “But I wanna know now!” He whined.

“I know,” Jarvis said soothingly. He reached behind Tony-Bee’s ear and pressed on the mole there. “Everything is going to be okay.”

Tony-Bee looked up at Jarvis desperately, even as his eyes began to close and he began to lose feeling in his arms and legs. He didn’t want to take a nap right now, he wanted answers!

But, Tony-Bee realized, slowly, Jarvis wasn’t even just putting him down for a nap. Jarvis was pressing a green button, and the yellow walls circled around Tony-Bee. Jarvis was pressing a red button, and green liquid was pouring down on top of Tony-Bee.

“Jarvis?” He tried to say, but his mouth wouldn’t form the words.

“Good night, Tony-Bee,” Jarvis said. And he turned and walked away.

Tony-Bee crumpled in the tube, and let the liquid cover him.

Tony-Bee fell asleep.

Jarvis hurried back to the third floor.

The nurse took the boy’s blood pressure.

Mama and Daddy called people.

Things happened.

The tube filled.

Jarvis said hello to the boy in the bed.

The nurse was fired.

Mama and Daddy got people to come in and clean up the third floor.

Everything happened.

Jarvis taught the boy about everything, from cooking to cleaning to surviving.

The laboratory was completely remade.

Mama and Daddy died in a car accident.

Nothing happened.

Jarvis died.

The boy attended a very special school for very smart people at a very young age.

The yellow tube, which was hidden in the basement, began to leak.

The boy was kidnapped.

The yellow tube began to run out of green liquid.

The boy became a superhero, and his real-live friends saved him.

The yellow tube was dry, and everything began to decay.

The boy saved the world, and his real-live friends saved him, again.

The yellow tube shattered quietly.

The boy’s friends insisted that he come back to the place he grew up, either to clean the place up or to something else.

“I don’t get what the big deal is, Capsicle,” said the boy from the front entrance. But he was all grown up now, so now he was a man. “It’s just a bunch of old junk. Nothing worth nothing to nobody.”

The man’s friend’s name was Steve Rogers, but he was a Captain in the war. He didn’t really like the man’s nicknames for him, but he tolerated it, for now.

“It’s memories, Tony! What if your father left important work here for you?”

Tony snorted. “My old man wouldn’t leave work to me if it was the only way to save the world. But, hell, if you’re so impatient to see his work, let’s start out in the laboratory.”

Steve rolled his eyes at Tony’s phrasing, but still patted Tony’s back to comfort his friend. He knew that it wasn’t easy for his friend to be back here, and he was proud of Tony for trying his best.

Tony stomped impatiently through the door and down the stairs to the basement, then stopped and stared at the lock on the door.

“Jesus,” he muttered. “This shit all seemed so advanced when I was a kid.” He pulled a screwdriver out of his suit pocket. He unscrewed the four screws holding the panel to the wall and fussed with the wires for a bit. After causing an electric shock that shorted out all the lights in the laboratory except the emergencies and woke up a young boy, the door relented and unlocked itself.

Far in the back of the lab, behind a wall that was halfway destroyed and in front of a dry yellow cylinder, Tony-Bee was sitting. Tony-Bee didn’t know why he had woken up, but he was very glad that he had. Tony-Bee had a lot to say to Jarvis about what had been going on. Carefully, he stepped through the hole in the wall.

“ _This_ was your father’s lab?” Steve asked, incredulous. His voice echoed throughout the enormous room. “Jesus, it’s huge.”

Tony-Bee heard Steve’s voice, but because he didn’t know who Steve was, he hid underneath a lab table. Tony-Bee was scared.

“Yeah, it’s fucking enormous. Have we reached my quota of memories for the day?”

“Tony, we’ve barely been here five minutes. Just give it a chance.”

Tony-Bee could hear the voices coming closer, and looked around desperately for a better hiding place. The lab table was open at either end, which meant that the two strangers in the lab would be able to see him as soon as they turned the corner.

Very, very, very quietly, Tony-Bee ducked out from beneath the lab table, through the broken down wall, and sat himself behind the yellow tube.

Tony-Bee didn’t know why he hadn’t just hidden here in the first place. It was a very good hiding place, and no one would be able to see Tony-Bee unless they were right in front of him.

“Look, Spangles, you might be having a good time here, but I’m sure not. No good memories here for—”

Tony cut himself off in the middle of his sentence. “Hey, Cap, you brought a flashlight with you, right?”

“Um, yes. What’s the matter? Do you see something?”

“I think so,” Tony murmured. “Here, pass it over. I have to check something out."

Steve gently passed Tony the flashlight, and Tony pointed it towards the end of the room.

“What’s wrong?” Steve asked again.

“That,” Tony said, wiggling the flashlight so that the light bounced over the yellow cylinder, “has never been here before.”

Steve frowned. “Are you sure, Tony? Maybe you just never noticed it. It is kind of out of the way.”

Tony snorted. “You’re talking to Anthony Eidetic, Steve. If I say that that’s never been there before, it’s never fucking been there before.”

“Well,” Steve tried to reason, “it’s not like it just appeared out of thin air. It could be just an old experiment that your— that Howard didn’t finish.”

Tony squinted at the yellow cylinder. “I guess,” he muttered. “I don’t like it. Let’s get the hell out of Dodge, Cap.”

“We’ve been in exactly one room, Tony. Come on, don’t let one of Howard’s experiments ruin everything for you."

Tony stared at the cylinder for another few seconds before he turned away.

“I guess you’re right,” he mumbled. “Here, thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“No problem,” Steve replied easily.

As the two men turned away from the cylinder, their footsteps and conversation became quieter.

Tony-Bee was still afraid that he might run into two men, so he stayed in his hiding place for five counts of one hundred before he left.

As he walked out of the lab, he looked around at how everything had changed. The scary green cylinders were gone, and the small human looking robots were gone, and the smart weapons were much sleeker and smaller. The tables had been replaced, and the floor was covered with steel plates, instead of just being plain concrete.

Ahead of himself, Tony-Bee could see the two men standing in the entryway.

“Steve,” said the shorter man. “Tell me that you didn’t hear that.”

Steve paused. “I heard something,” he admitted. “Maybe it’s just the mice.”

Tony snorted. “Mice my ass,” he muttered. “Hey!” He shouted. “Whoever’s in here, come out!”

Tony-Bee quickly ducked beneath one of the lab tables. The two men were coming back towards him, and he didn’t know what to do.

“Jesus, Tony, calm down. There’s no one here.”

“I want back-up.”

Steve sighed. “I’ll call Phil and Nat. I thought that you said you weren’t going to be difficult about this.”

“I’m not being difficult, I’m being sensible. I thought you were into sensible.”

“I’m calling Phil and Nat. I hope you’re happy.”

“I’ll be happy when I know what the fuck is down here.”

“There’s nothing the fuck down here. I’m on the phone, Tony.”

“Whatever. Let’s go upstairs, if you’ve gotten enough of my father’s work.”

“Hey, Nat. Yeah, Tony was wondering if you and Phil could join us? He’s a little antsy. Yes, Nat, I know. I know! I told you, Tony was just wondering. Should I call Clint and Doctor Banner instead? Thank you. See you then.”

“So?” Tony asked.

“Fifteen minutes.”

“Fantastic. Let’s get out of here, this lab gives me the creeps.”

The metal door slammed shut loudly behind the two.

Tony-Bee stayed under the lab table for another few minutes, trying to puzzle out what had happened. He didn’t know who the two strange men were that had come into his house, and he didn’t know why everything in the laboratory had changed, or why there was a wall in front of the yellow cylinder Jarvis had put him in, or why his skin felt loose and strange. He didn’t know anything.

This was a very, very big mystery, and Tony-Bee wasn’t sure if he wanted to solve it. Tony-Bee was very scared of the two strange men, and he didn’t like the sound of them getting back-up. Some mysteries were too big for little boys, and usually, grown-ups were the ones who solved those mysteries.

But Tony-Bee didn’t know where any grown-ups were, besides the two strange men. And besides, with what had happened with the third floor and the screaming boy, he wasn’t sure if he could have trusted the grown-ups that he knew, anyway.

Tony-Bee could see two of his choices: he could stay under the lab table, and hide for who even knew how long, or he could go out and confront the strange men and their back-up.

Tony-Bee took a deep breath and crawled out from under the lab table.

At the end of the lab, Tony-Bee slowly opened the heavy metal door, and listened hard for the two strange men.

When he didn’t hear anything, he opened the door further and stuck his head out.

The hallway in the basement looked very, very different to Tony-Bee. Instead of a plain concrete floor, the hallway was carpeted in green. The walls, rather than their non-descript off-white, were painted a deep burgundy.

This was another mystery, and Tony-Bee was starting to get tired of mysteries. There was no way that the floors and the walls of the hallway had both been changed in a day. And Tony-Bee was pretty sure that he hadn’t been asleep for longer than a day, because he had never been asleep for longer than a day before. Not that he could remember, at least.

Tony-Bee stepped out of the laboratory and onto the dry carpeting.

Tony-Bee slowly made his way up the stairs (which were carpeted, too— and they were squeaky. They didn’t squeak and moan like this when Alfred had carried Tony-Bee down these stairs yesterday). At the top of the stairs, the door was closed and Tony-Bee could hear voices coming from it.

“So, what do you think so far of the illustrious Stark residence?”

“It’s nice, Tony. I like the paintings.”

“Oh, yes, the paintings are ever so tasteful. I can see that your artistic leanings are far above my own.”

“Tony—”

“Oh, I’m not complaining. God only knows that if I were in charge of the artwork, I would have decorated the entire place with tasteless modern arts done in various squares of red and gold.”

“I happen to like modern art.”

“You have to say that, part of your paycheck comes from me.”

“Tony, I argue with you about every other damn thing that we talk about. I think it’s well documented that I would argue with you about modern art.”

“Capsicle—”

The doorbell rang then, cutting off their argument.

“There’s Nat. Why don’t you ask her opinion on modern art?”

“Natasha only likes art made out of the hearts of people she’s killed.”

Tony-Bee could hear a single pair of footsteps moving away from the basement door.

“Welcome to my lovely abode,” announced one of the strange men. “You’re late. Cap said fifteen minutes.”

“Tony, it’s a Saturday afternoon. I was having a _very_ enjoyable time with my girlfriend, and Phil was probably out adopting a kitten,” retorted a woman– Nat, probably, according to the phone call earlier.

“Actually,” said a new man, “I was adopting a seven year old Great Dane from my local animal shelter.”

“Shut the fuck up, Phil,” said one of the original strange men. “We can’t all be the angel that shows up on people's shoulders.”

“Well, we don’t all have to be the devil,” Nat said pleasantly. “Can we hurry this up?”

“I guess you all really don’t care about my pain.”

“Only if we’re the ones causing it, sladkiy.”

“Don’t pinch my cheeks like that, karga.”

“Your accent is atrocious. I’m going to revive the KGB just so you’ll stop trying to speak Russian.”

“Natasha,” said Phil, “I thought that we agreed that there would be no more national security incidents this week.”

“Phil, the KGB coming back, to me, feels like more of an international incident.”

“Well, it sounds like an incident that I want no part of. Understand?”

“Of course, Agent Coulson. You would probably have been tied up somewhere, and completely unable to stop me.”

“Stop flirting, both of you. This is about the haunted mansion.”

“It’s not haunted,” said the other strange man. “Tony’s just paranoid.”

“Maybe so,” said Phil. “But it never does hurt to be sure, especially when experiments like Howard’s might be involved.”

“Excuse me?”

“Howie kept a bunch of his shit around, Cap. He was a big fan of his trophies. If someone is in here with us, they might decide to liberate some of that great patriotic science.”

“Dangerous patriotic science,” someone corrected mildly. “Which we do not want falling into the hands of our enemies.”

“No offense, but most of Howard’s dangerous patriotic science got cleaned out when he hit the big one. It’s all either in some warehouse somewhere or all burned up.”

“Can we be sure of that, though?” Steve interrupted. “You didn’t know about that tube in the basement.”

“Tube?” Asked Phil curiously. “What tube?”

“Some weird regenerative thing, probably. _I_ wanted to investigate it, but Steven here thought that it was for the best that we continue on, even though the tube was very obviously hidden on purpose. Behind, like, drywall and shit. And then I heard footsteps, and Steve said that it was nothing, and then I said that he was wrong, then he called you guys.”

“It’s probably not relevant, but it would be nice to have all the facts,” Phil said. “Romanov, Rogers, with me. Stark, stay here, and arm yourself.”

“This is my house, I should come with you.”

“The intruder could be a threat to you. Stay here, arm yourself, and don’t make me responsible for you being dead.”

“If the intruder is such a big threat, shouldn’t I have back-up?”

“If you only heard footsteps in the basement, then you’ll probably be fine here. Romanov, Rogers, and I can handle whatever’s down there.”

Tony-Bee began to carefully inch himself back down the stairs. As he crept backwards, the voices from behind the door began to fade out, so he couldn’t hear what they were saying.

As he reached the door to the lab, the door at the top of the stairs blew off its hinges and backwards. Tony-Bee bolted into the laboratory. He ran very fast to the very farthest end of the laboratory, even past the yellow tube that he had hidden next to. Tony-Bee ran very hard, and when he stopped, he came up against an enormous tank.

The tank’s treads were about a foot shorter than Tony-Bee was, so he carefully pulled himself beneath the tank and hid next to the second wheel in its treads.

At the opposite end of the laboratory, he could see two men and a woman enter the door, slowly. The woman was wearing a gray shirt and black leggings, and had short, curly red hair. The shorter man had short, balding brown hair, and was wearing a short-sleeved button-up shirt and dress pants. The taller man was tow-headed and about twenty-five-ish, and he was wearing capris shorts and a bright blue t-shirt.

All three were holding guns.

Tony-Bee suddenly felt very weak in his blue overalls and red t-shirt. He scooted back so that he was leaning against the tank, then laid on his tummy so he could see the people coming, then sat down and pulled his knees up to his chin so that he would be safe from attacks from the front.

The man in the button-up shirt signaled to the other people, who nodded sharply and began patrolling the laboratory.

The tow-headed man was the one approaching Tony-Bee most rapidly, circling from the right and only checking the very edges of the lab for… 

For him, Tony-Bee thought. Tony-Bee was very, very scared of being found. He was pretty sure that these people were the people that Daddy always warned him against, the kidnappers who wanted to steal him and hurt him and hurt Daddy. And if they weren’t kidnappers, then they were robbers and thieves who were trying to steal Daddy’s stuff.

But if they weren’t either, then Tony-Bee didn’t know what he would do. If they had been telling the truth when they were talking outside the basement door, if someone else owned Tony-Bee’s house now— it would explain all the changes, but not why Tony-Bee was still there without his parents and Jarvis— if, if, if, if, if if if. Tony-Bee didn’t know what was going on, not at all in the very least, and he was very, very scared.

The tall man was only about five yards away from Tony-Bee at that point. Tony-Bee cautiously pushed himself back to the very edge of the tank’s treading.

The blonde man whipped his head towards Tony-Bee’s hiding place. But there was no way that he could have heard Tony-Bee moving from so far away, especially when Tony-Bee was so sure that he had been being so quietly.

The tall man kept his eyes pointed towards Tony-Bee’s hiding spot as he raised his flashlight towards the ceiling.

Tony-Bee straightened his back and watched as the man approached him, stepping loudly. He clenched his hands into fists and decided to hit the man in the stomach, very hard.

Suddenly, from behind! Strong arms grabbing him around the waist, tightening, not letting him escape. Tony-Bee screamed and shrieked and howled, bucking and kicking to try and escape the clutches.

“Lemme _go_!” Tony-Bee shrieked, flailing his arms back at his attacker.

“It’s a child,” the woman grabbing Tony-Bee said coldly. “Why is there a child here?”

“Why is there a what now?”

“That’s impossible.”

“Well, one of us is holding about forty pounds of child, and the two who aren’t are the ones who are most vehemently protesting the option. So let’s go with the old style of whoever the fuck is holding the child gets to fucking decide that it’s a child. Get out of there.”

“No!” Tony-Bee screamed. He did not like the woman who had her arms around him! Didn’t she ever learn that it’s not very nice to grab people without them saying that it was okay? Because Tony-Bee had definitely not said that it was okay. “Let go of me!”

“No can do, kid,” the woman said, pulling Tony-Bee out from under the tank without much apparent effort on her part. After Tony-Bee was all the way out from under the tank, she twisted him around until they were both facing each other.

The woman made a face like the one Daddy had made, on the day with the screaming boy. Like Tony-Bee was something so gross that she didn’t want to look at him, that he was making her _dirty_ , like _he_ was dirty.

But she also looked kind of… confused. Like she didn’t understand why Tony-Bee was dirty. Like Tony-Bee should be clean, and she didn’t understand why he wasn’t.

“Rogers,” she called, keeping an iron grip on Tony-Bee’s shoulders, “we’re going to Tower. Tell Stark. Intruder secured and injured.”

“I don’t have to go anywhere with you!” Tony-Bee yelled. “This is my house and I’ve lived here for my whole life! I have rights!”

“This isn’t your house. You’re breaking and entering.”

“Am not!” Tony-Bee aimed a vicious kick at the woman’s shin. “I’ve lived here with my parents for my whole entire life and you can’t make me leave!”

“Then where are your parents?”

“I don’t know! They were on the third floor with the screaming boy and then Jarvis took me down here and put me in the tube and now you’re kidnapping me!”

“Jarvis?” The tall man asked. “Agent, he can’t mean…”

“I think he can, Steve,” Phil said coolly.

“Who’s Jarvis?” Asked Nat, who was holding Tony-Bee. “Tell me about him.”

“He’s none of your beeswax! Jarvis works here and he lives here and you can’t hurt him!”

“Steve, go get Stark,” the woman said sharply.

“But–”

“He needs to hear this, and you’re the best choice to tell him. Coulson and I can stay down here with the boy.”

The man grumbled briefly, but then he left the lab.

“You gonna come out from behind that tank, Agent?”

“Hold on a sec, Coulson.”

The woman lifted Tony-Bee up to her hip, then wrapped her arm around Tony-Bee’s arms so that Tony-Bee couldn’t hit her.

“Let go!” Tony-Bee shouted again, but even he was starting to realize that these people weren’t going to let him go ever at all whatsoever.

“No,” the woman said. She moved out from behind the tank, where the man in the button-down shirt was waiting.

“What in the world,” he said, “is that. Why is it in Tony’s lab. Does Tony—” Before the man could finish his sentence, the blonde man and another man, this one with a beard, burst into the laboratory.

“Why is there a child in my lab,” the bearded man asked, out of breath.

“Working on it,” said Nat.

“This isn’t _your_ lab, it’s my daddy’s,” Tony-Bee said indignantly.

“Your ‘daddy’ can kiss my–” the bearded man began.

“Tony,” Steve interrupted.

“Who’s your daddy, kiddo?” The short man asked Tony-Bee sweetly.

“My daddy works for the government and he can get you fired!” Tony-Bee replied acidly.

“Anyway, why does this kid know Jarvis, again? What’s this nonsense with a screaming boy on the third floor?” The bearded man asked.

“Tony, for god’s sake, shut up,” Steve retorted.

“Cap, this kid is in my lab, talking about my butler, and claims to live in my house. I will talk as much as I damn well please.”

“It’s not your lab, Jarvis isn’t your butler, and it’s not your house!” Tony-Bee yelled.

“Kid, I don’t know how you think you got in here, but this is my house, and I have lived here since nineteen seventy. This is not your house.”

“Yes it IS! My name is Tony Stark and my daddy is Howard Stark and my mama is Maria Stark and our butler is Edwin Jarvis and this is OUR house!”

Everyone in the room froze.

“Tony Stark?” Phil asked, puzzled. “I think you may be a little confused, kiddo. This man is Tony Stark.” He pointed to the bearded man, who seemed to be equally confused.

“I’m not confused, you’re just stupid. My name is Tony Stark, and I live here and you’re all dumb.”

“Kid,” the bearded man said, “I am definitely Tony Stark. Born here, raised here.”

“No, you’re NOT!” Tony-Bee shouted. “I am! I’m Tony Stark and you don’t live here, and you never have!”

But Tony-Bee was beginning to feel a little bit sick. He thought about the screaming boy on the third floor and how he had looked just like Tony-Bee, about his daddy and his mama and Jarvis all abandoning him, and about how all these people seemed to not understand that this wasn’t their house, and about the mysterious photo he had found and the fact that he couldn’t remember anything before he turned six, and about how in all the conversations he had overheard, the bearded man had referred to himself as Tony Stark.

Tony-Bee wailed. He kicked and screamed and shrieked and bit until the woman let go of him, and he sprinted away from the other adults, up the stairs to the ground floor, and then up to the second floor, past where the computer room used to be, past where the yoga room should have been, and up the stairs that used to be hidden behind a very heavy metal door.

The four adults were chasing Tony-Bee, and were very close behind him. Tony-Bee pounded up the staircase, with sets of feet following him, and he sprinted towards the nearest room.

“Dammit, wait–!” The blonde man yelled. He grabbed for Tony-Bee’s hair– but he missed– but he grabbed Tony-Bee’s skin– Tony-Bee ran into the room, slammed the door behind him, locked the door. He could feel his skin stretching, stretching, st-rrrr-eet-ching–

Snapping.

It came off like the kadoobies from notebooks, all peeling slow and popping when it disconnected, and it hurt like all get-out.

Tony-Bee grappled in the drawer beneath the sink, came out victorious with a slim pair of orange scissors. He snapped them desperately against his peeling skin, and it finally, finally disconnected.

Tony-Bee wanted to cry from how much it hurt. He was skinless, peeled like a vegetable, and he felt sick.

“Dammit, Steve, leave the kid alone.”

“Tony, I’m holding a handful of his skin, and—”

“And right now, he probably doesn’t give half a dead rat’s ass about who you, I, or Jesus are. He’s freaked out, he’s hiding in a bathroom, and, like you said, he just lost half his fucking face.”

“Christ, Tony, I just—”

“Steve, right now, it doesn’t matter what ‘you just.’ The kid is scared and alone, and he’d rather be alone than with us. What we should be doing is going downstairs, making several phone calls, and letting him work through whatever’s going on.”

There was a beat of silence.

“What do _you_ think is going on?”

Another beat.

“I dunno, Steve. There’s a kid in there who thinks he’s me, who probably looks an awful lot like I did when I was six, and who was more than probably some kind of conspiracy between my folks and Jarvis. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with that.”

“I’m sorry, Tony.”

“It doesn’t really matter, Cap. C’mon, let’s go see how the Remarkable Russian and the Breathtaking Bureaucrat are taking this.”

One person began walking downstairs, while the other stood outside the door for a moment, another, another. Finally, he set something down with a quiet _shff_ and followed his friend down the stairs.

Tony-Bee stared in the mirror, looked deep into his brown eyes. His right eye was surrounded by bloody red muscle, down to his cheeks and his chin. He looked Red Skull, an old villain from his Captain America comics.

Tony-Bee glared at his face, with some tendrils of skin still waving in the air above his nose. He looked terrible. He looked disgusting. He looked like something dirty, something that no one would ever want to be around.

He looked like the thing that was in the first tube in Daddy’s lab, when Jarvis had carried him downstairs. Only, Tony-Bee still had the inside stuff inside of him. He had the inside stuff inside of him and that was all wrapped up in skin, only now the skin was gone and the inside stuff was spilling out into the outside.

Tony-Bee wanted to cry. He missed his mama, and his daddy, and Jarvis, and not getting chased around his house by strange people, and everything looking like it was supposed to, and no strange people claiming to own his house.

Tony-Bee dropped back to the floor and curled himself up in the corner, against the door and the cabinets.

Tony-Bee fell asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> holy unplanned hiatus batman  
> that ones my bad i picked a whole fuckin bouquet of whoopsie daisies. i opened a fuckin florist shop that specializes in whoopsie daisies. bought a farm to harvest whoopsie daisies. invented the whoopsie daisy seed.

Tony-Bee woke up.

Other Tony and Steve were both sitting in the study on the second floor, just outside the stairwell to the third floor.

Steve was shredding an old pamphlet on proper maintenance of a dishwasher. Steve was very, very anxious about all the goings-on that were going on. He had not expected any of the goings-on that were going on to go on. He had expected to come to his friend’s childhood home and to bring out a couple of boxes of photographs and blueprints. He had not expected to see a child clone-thing of his friend and to then accidentally rip its skin off.

It had been an exciting day, and it wasn't even four o’clock yet.

Other Tony was talking on his bluetooth to a woman named Pepper Potts, talking about if it was legal for him to take Tony-Bee back to Other Tony’s new home. They agree that it was not against the law, but they stay on the line, chatting about if Tony-Bee was legally a person.

Other Tony was trying his very hardest not to let his nervousness show, because he thought that if Steve knew that Other Tony was anxious, that Steve would get even more anxious.

On the first floor, his and Steve’s friends Natasha Romanov and Phil Coulson were both talking to a man named Nick Fury. Natasha, Mr. Fury, and Phil were talking about why Tony-Bee was in the house in the first place, and if they should take Tony-Bee to the government building that Mr. Fury was in charge of.

On the front porch were two more friends of the adults that were already inside the building— their names were Bruce Banner and Vision.

Bruce Banner was a scientist who knew a lot about physics, which is the study of the smallest pieces of matter in the universe, and how they work with each other. He was one of Tony’s closest friends.

Vision was a robot, who was made out of a different robot and melded with a magic gem, and who had helped to defeat in evil robot. He was kind of like Tony’s grandson, if Tony were old enough to have a grandson and that grandson was a robot.

On the third floor, inside of a room that had a small pile of skin outside the door, there was a little boy. His name was Tony Stark, but everyone called him Tony-Bee.

Tony-Bee didn’t quite understand what’s happening. He was the only real Tony Stark, but the man on the second floor was Tony Stark too, and that Tony Stark was in his forties and way, way, way, way, way too old to be the real Tony Stark.

Because Tony-Bee was supposed to be the only real Tony Stark.

Except for real Tony Starks weren’t supposed to have peelable skin like oranges, and they weren’t supposed to look like Red Skull when their skin got peeled off, and they weren’t supposed to drip too much blood on the bathroom floor.

Tony-Bee felt sick to his stomach. He wanted to leave the bathroom, and he wanted Jarvis, and he wanted his mama, and he wanted his daddy, and he wanted for everything that had happened the day after his eighth birthday to not have ever happened, and he wanted to know if it was still the day after his eighth birthday or if he was on some different day, in a different month in a different year in a different decade.

Tony-Bee wanted to go back to when everything made sense.

Tony-Bee had been sleeping in the bathroom for about fifteen minutes, and he had only just woken up. He needed to figure out what to do.

He wasn't supposed to hide from the bad guys when he was in his own house. On TV, the good guys always had the advantage when they were at their home base. That’s how it worked.

But instead, Tony-Bee was scared and confused about who those guys were, and why they were in his house, and if he even was the real Tony Stark.

Tony-Bee wasn't supposed to be scared. He knows that if his daddy were there, his daddy would be giving him a lecture on how men have to be brave and how Stark men were made of iron and how people who give up when the enemy has got them cornered were chickenshit, and that no son of Daddy’s was gonna be chickenshit, not if Daddy had anything to say about it.

Tony-Bee sniffled and carefully wiped his left eye. The right side of his face was still all ripped off from losing his skin, so he couldn’t touch that side. It was still bleeding, with blood dripping down his neck and staining the collar of his t-shirt.

Tony-Bee wasn't sure how long people could survive without the skin on their face, but he didn’t think that it’s very long. Tony-Bee’s eye was already feeling dry, since he couldn’t blink anymore.

Tony-Bee stood up slowly. He balanced on his tiptoes to look at his face in the mirror, and he frowned.

He looked really scary! Without any skin on a big part of his face, he had a red right side of his face which kept on dripping blood. The red parts moved whenever Tony-Bee moved his face, and it looked very, very gross.

It made him want to vomit.

So he slipped back onto his feet so that he wouldn't be seeing his very gross face, so that he wouldn't want to vomit anymore.

Tony-Bee knew that he would need to leave the bathroom eventually. He could think of two different ways: either he would leave the bathroom himself, or someone else would come and drag him out.

Stark men don’t let nobody push them around. It’s a fact of life, so his daddy says.

So Tony-Bee turned and faced the door, and tried to think about what he should do once he got out there.

Tony-Bee didn’t think that he could beat any of the people if they were out there. He could try to run around them and get away like that, but he didn’t know what he could do after that. If the people were telling the truth about being who they say they are, then there was probably not a place in the world for a Tony Stark who was apparently about forty years too young. And there was nowhere else that Tony-Bee could go anyway, with half his face peeled off and his muscles moving whenever the rest of his face did.

He knew, somehow, deep down, that there was nobody out in the world who would know what to do with him. Nobody would even want to look at him, not with what he looked like now.

He knew that his only option was to surrender to these people, but he didn't have to like it.

Tony-Bee slipped over to the door, pressed his ear up against it to check if there’s anyone in the hall. There’s nobody he can hear— no one in the hall, but maybe someone downstairs, or the downstairs under that.

Tony-Bee backed away from the door and stood right next to it, paralyzed. He could leave, he should leave, he needed to leave, Stark men don’t let nobody push them around, and if he didn't leave, someone else was gonna make him.

He knew what he should do, knows what he was supposed to do, knew how he could do it.

But he still couldn't move, couldn't will his arm to reach out, his hand to grasp the doorknob, his wrist to turn. He couldn't move at all.

He stared at the door knob for he didn't know how long, trying to get his arms to move so that he could just open the darn door—

… 

There was something whirring quietly outside the bathroom that Tony-Bee was hiding in, kind of like the sound outside the room with the computer when Mama was working on her math stuff, or like the sounds that came out of Daddy’s lab sometimes. The computer kind of whirring, but also _not_ , like some kind of trick, like a heartbeat or a pulse or a something trying to hide itself as a computer.

“We don’t want to scare him,” someone said quietly— the fake Tony real Tony old Tony. “Just be careful, Vision.”

“Perhaps,” the whirring heartbeat pulse suggested, “you should remove his skin if you don’t want him to be frightened.”

Quiet whirring, heavy shoe kicked at the hardwood floor— Mama wouldn't like that, and neither will Jarvis or the maids, if any of them were even still here. Shoes leave stains, stains that were hard to clean and don’t do favors for anybody.

“I don’t know why in God’s name that thing is still here.”

Soft pat on someone’s shoulder, a _shff_ of something coming up off the floor, click clack click clack thump thump thump down the stairs.

Tony-Bee stayed there, just beside the door, listening to the whirring/breathing/heartbeat out in the hall.

“I’m coming in,” it said suddenly, and then Tony-Bee felt like his arms were being submerged in Play-Doh, like he was being buried alive in mud. He stumbled back, away from the door, and landed flat on his butt while some kind of alien or ghost or robot or _something_ comes through the door without ever even touching it.

“Hello,” the thing said, when it was finished ghosting through the door.

Tony-Bee stared up at Vision.

Vision knelt down to be eye level with Tony-Bee. “My name is Vision,” he said kindly

Tony-Bee kept gazing at Vision, wide-eyed. He felt scared and panicky, and Vision just walked straight through a door, and maybe would have kept walking right through Tony-Bee if he hadn’t stepped away from the door. And Vision’s eyes, his eyes, his eyes were all wrong and they were changing, cycling, like an egg in a microwave then like a deflated balloon then like a ping pong balls and on and on and on and on.

“You’re distressed,” Vision noted. “Please, remain calm. I am here to help.”

Tony-Bee couldn't breathe right. He was gasping in air, trying desperately to get enough oxygen, but either his lungs were all of a sudden too small or he wasn't actually breathing at all, but the point was that there was not enough oxygen and the entire room was crushing him and making him sick.

“Please,” Vision said again, but now he’s swaying back and forth and his edges were blurring with the air in the room. “Remain calm. Take deep breaths.”

Tony-Bee hiccupped in a great gasp of air, but it wasn’t helping, nothing was helping. He couldn't breathe, he didn't know what to do, he didn't know what was happening to him.

“Shut up,” Tony-Bee said dizzily. “Shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up, shut up shut up shut up shut _up!_ ”

“Please, remain calm,” Vision said again. Vision was starting to feel sick, now. He tried to back away from Tony-Bee, but he bumped into the door. He tried to phase through it, but his molecules wouldn't change, wouldn't vibrate fast enough. He slid down the door, frantically scrabbling for the door knob. “Please, remain calm. Please, remain calm. Please, remain calm. Pl-pl-pl-pl-pl-pleeeease remain calm, please r-r-r-remain c-c-c- please remain calm.”

Vision’s speech protocols were failing! This meant that Vision couldn't speak properly anymore, or speak at all, really. Vision’s other protocols were also failing, including his phasing protocols. His phasing protocols were how Vision moved through solid objects.

Vision was trapped, and he was beginning to feel very, very sick. Vision had never been sick before in his life!

Tony-Bee was also feeling very sick. His head was hurting very badly, and he couldn't see straight, and the edges of his vision were going dark. He placed his hand against the bathroom counter and stumbled forward, desperately, reaching for the door knob.

Except, Vision was grabbing at his ankle, trying to stop him from leaving. “Pl-l-lease remain c-c-c-calm, p-p-l-lease rem-m-m-m-m-main calm.”

“Let go,” Tony-Bee whimpered. “Let go a’ me, let go, let go let go let go, please let go, please let go, please please please let go.”

“Help,” Vision said, eyes going foggy. “Help help h-h-h-h-help me, help m-me help me.”

“Let go,” Tony-Bee whispered, only a bit more forcefully. He shook his leg to try and dislodge Vision, but Vision only clung tighter, even as his eyes completely filmed over. “I gotta go, I gotta leave, lemme go lemme go lemme go!”

“H-h-help, help me,” Vision said again, losing his grip on Tony-Bee’s ankle. “Help m-m-me.”

Tony-Bee kicked out at Vision’s face, stumbled towards the door, but Vision was still in the way of opening the door and Tony-Bee was still so dizzy and he felt so nauseous and he could barely stand up. He tugged at the doorknob, but the door wouldn't open more than maybe three and a half inches. He couldn't get out the door, but he couldn't stop trying, he couldn’t let himself get stuck in here.

Finally, finally, finally finally finally, the door opened wide enough for Tony-Bee to slip through, just barely. He slipped through the door, but his head was banging now and it hurt so bad, hurt almost too much to move, and he could feel blood dripping out of his nose and dripping, dripping, dripping down the front of his face, almost acidic—

and he couldn't see right either, anymore, because his vision was all pink and cloudy at the bottom and he reached up his hands to wipe it away, but they came back all covered in blood and his head was pound pound _pounding_ so hard that it took him a couple of seconds to figure out why, why his hands were bloody when he just wiped his eyes, and then he realized that, that, that—

that his eyes were bleeding along with his nose, and there was something suspiciously wet and warm and iron tasting in the back of his mouth, and—

Bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam bam up the stairs came Steve, whose eyes couldn't stop moving between Tony-Bee and the bathroom door, and then Other Tony (real Tony actual Tony first Tony _not real Tony because Tony-Bee was the real Tony_ Tony) came flying up behind him, but Tony’s eyes stayed plastered to the bathroom, and he’s already headed there when Steve grabs his shoulders and tells him not right now, can’t you see the kid’s distressed, and Tony said Fuck you Cap, if that’s what the kid looks like I have to see what Vis looks like, except for Tony doesn’t try to move forward now.

Tony-Bee was feeling very faint, like he might pass out any minute, except for passing out was a pansy-ass move and Tony-Bee was a Stark, and Stark men weren’t any kind of pansy-ass.

And then, again, another person up the stairs. This person was smaller and weaker than Tony and Steve and even Vision. This person was Bruce Banner, the scientist that was Tony’s friend.

Doctor Banner wasn't glancing between Tony-Bee and the bathroom or just staring straight at the bathroom. He had all his attention focused on Tony-Bee.

“Hello,” he said slowly, cautiously, like Tony-Bee was some kind of cobra that could strike out at any time. “Is your name Tony?”

Tony-Bee nodded, but that only makes him feel more sick and he thought he might ralph if this whole thing keeps up.

“My name is Bruce. Do you think you can walk towards me, Tony?”

Tony-Bee staggered forward, but that just made his head hurt worse and his stomach churn harder and he wasn't sure but it definitely _felt_ like there was more blood coming out of his eyes and his nose, so he stops, pauses, swallows and tried to make the hallway stop tilting back and forth back and forth.

“Tony,” Bruce said again, still calm, still quiet. “Can you please come closer?”

And Tony-Bee tried to come closer but he wasn’t sure if he was actually doing it and there was still blood coming out of everywhere on his face and he felt sick sick sick to his stomach, and his vision was all gray and wobbly, and his head _hurt_ and it hurt even _worse_ whenever he had to move, and—

Behind him, the bathroom door, the one that had shut when Tony-Bee was trying to escape from Vision, it was opening and Vision was coming out, and—

“Tony,” Vision said, “pl-l-lease h-help me.”

“Why is Vision malfunctioning?” Other Tony asked. “Vision doesn’t malfunction. Vision is made out of an infinity gem. It’s impossible for him to malfunction.”

Except for Vision was very much malfunctioning. His eyes were going from white to black to yellow irises with a single black pupil in each to two black pupils in each to hundreds of tiny yellow pupils spread across a great expanse of black to looking like the oil slicks on the ocean from the TV report Daddy had watched back in March to completely filmed over with a sick yellow, like rotten egg yolks, like the sheen that covers barf, and then to a purple that makes Tony-Bee feel like his entire personhood was getting yanked out from under him.

“Holy fuck,” Steve said, breathless. “Holy fuck, Bruce, grab the kid, jesus christ.”

And again, just like in the lab, there were strong arms wrapping around Tony-Bee, grabbing him and pulling him away, except for this time there was no reason for Tony-Bee to protest, no will in him to protest. He went limp and let himself be carried away from Vision, but he never stopped gazing at those eyes, the eyes that were still changing when Other Tony blocked his line of sight.

But Tony-Bee couldn’t stop seeing Vision, couldn’t stop the feeling of losing hold of himself, couldn’t stop the blood that’s coming out of his eyes and his nose and his mouth, couldn’t stop feeling sick sick sick, like he’s gonna throw up, like when he saw the screaming boy on the third floor, and—

“Tony,” Bruce said, only it’s a lot less like regular talking and a lot more like shouting, and Tony-Bee didn't quite realize why Bruce was shouting until he realized that he was screaming, so Tony-Bee closed his mouth and all of a sudden it was so much quieter, softer, easier to be alive in.

“Tony,” Bruce said again, softer, gentler, “how do you feel?”

Tony-Bee vomited down the front of his shirt and passed out.

Bruce Banner stared at the small boy he had placed in the armchair and sighed. Bruce didn’t really know how to talk to children, didn’t know how he was supposed to act or talk or anything. Altogether, he acted very awkwardly whenever he had to be around children.

Probably it was because he never spent time with any voluntarily.

Steve and Other Tony came walking down the stairs heavily, thump bump bump thump bump bump, with Vision held up between them.

“We’re taking Vis downstairs,” Other Tony told Bruce, with barely a glance in his direction. “I don’t think it’s good for him to be near the kid.”

“I don’t think it’s good for either to be near the other,” Bruce told Other Tony, but Other Tony either ignored him or couldn’t hear him, because he kept dragging Vision and Steve down the hallway towards the stairs.

Bruce stared at Tony-Bee. “What am I supposed to do with you,” he mumbled to himself.

Tony-Bee’s right eye continued to gaze at Bruce. With no eyelid, he couldn’t stop staring. But Tony-Bee didn’t answer, since he was still asleep.

Bruce sighed. “We need bandages.” He muttered.

… 

Natasha and Phil were still on the first floor, in the kitchen. Phil had been trying to talk to Mr. Fury, but for some reason, his cell phone had stopped working.

“We should probably check upstairs,” Natasha commented to Phil. Natasha had a strange way of knowing when things went wrong, exactly when they went wrong.

“Probably,” said Phil, tightening his necktie. Phil had never had a single part of his suit out of place, and it was very rarely stained with blood. Those are very impressive statistics in Phil’s line of work.

Natasha and Phil weren’t going to go check upstairs just yet. Whatever was going wrong upstairs would eventually come to them.

And, just after Phil had tightened his tie, the first thing that had been going wrong upstairs had come to them.

Other Tony, Steve, and Vision came down the stairs next to the kitchen. Steve was cursing, Other Tony was trying to diagnose Vision’s issues, and Vision was trying to repair his systems.

“How’s it going?” Natasha asked calmly. Natasha was also well known for being rude to Tony.

“Shove it up your communist ass,” Other Tony replied icily. “Bruce is upstairs with the kid. I recommend you check it out before Fury gets here.”

Other Tony was in a very stressful situation, so he may have been overly angry with Natasha. Natasha didn’t mind, though. She had very thick skin.

Phil sighed as Other Tony, Steve, and Vision hobbled over into the parlor. “Everything is my problem, isn’t it.”

“Yes,” said Natasha, getting up from her perch on the kitchen counter. “Luckily, you have me to help you out.”

Phil chuckled. “I must be the luckiest man in the world.”

“If you were the luckiest man in the world, you wouldn’t have to deal with this mess,” Natasha teased, moving towards the stairs.

“If I were the luckiest man in the world, I wouldn’t have ex-KGB agents threatening to tie me up,” Phil muttered, following Natasha up the stairs.

Bruce was trying to bandage Tony-Bee’s face with a few medical bandages and toilet paper.

He was not succeeding.

“God, I don’t know what the fuck to do with this. I don’t know how this works,” he babbled to Natasha and Phil. “He’s missing half his fucking face. I can’t fix this!”

“Bruce,” Phil said, passively, “calm down.”

Bruce scrabbled his fingernails through his hair. “This is fucked up. This is so fucked up.” He murmured.

“Sure is,” Phil agreed. “Would you like to go downstairs? You seem to be having trouble staying calm.”

“I’m gone. I’ll just. Like. Uh. Check out the, um, lab. For clues,” Bruce said. He nearly sprinted off of the second floor.

“Well done,” said Natasha, who was kneeling next to Tony-Bee and attempting to salvage Bruce’s bandaging job.

“Same to you,” Phil said. He sank into the armchair next to Tony-Bee’s. “This is terrible.”

“Really?” Natasha asked, turning to Phil and widening her eyes. “And here I was thinking about how this was my dream Saturday! Are you telling me that you don’t want to be here right now?”

Phil sighed. “Just bandage the kid up so that he doesn’t lose his eye.”

Natasha turned back towards Tony-Bee and continued her work. “You know,” she commented, “Fury probably knows something about this. He and Howard used to know each other, didn’t they?”

“That’s why I called him,” Phil agreed. “With any luck, he’ll be here within the next ten minutes.”

“He’d better be,” Natasha replied, twisting her bandage roll around the back of Tony-Bee’s head.

Natasha finished bandaging Tony-Bee’s head within the next few minutes and settled herself onto the sofa across from him and Phil.

“Ten minutes?” She asked.

“Five, if we’re lucky,” Phil answered, checking his watch.

They shared a few restful moments then, until, barely two minutes later, the doorbell rang.

“Luckiest man in the world,” Natasha called as she headed down the stairs to retrieve Mr. Fury.

Except, Mr. Fury hadn’t waited for Natasha to come and get him. Steve had exited the parlor and had retrieved him from the grand hallway, then invited him into the parlor.

“Vision ran into some… problems,” Steve said tactfully, guiding Mr. Fury to the Chesterfield sofa. “We think that he’s alright now, but Tony wants to run a full diagnostic.”

“How exactly did this happen, Rogers?” Fury growled. “When I received my update from Romanov and Coulson, all I knew was that there was a child claiming to be Tony Stark on the premises. Now, apparently, the most advanced android in the world is malfunctioning.”

“Which is impossible!” Other Tony interjects, sounding very stressed. Other Tony looked like he might have a panic attack. When someone has a panic attack, it is very important not to overwhelm them, and to make sure that they have a safe place to calm down in.

Other Tony was in a very stressful environment, and could not get out of that environment. This was a very bad way to handle an oncoming panic attack.

“Vision is made with a fucking infinity gem! Infinity gems cannot be crashed!” Other Tony explained rapidly, slamming his palm on the table for emphasis. “I don’t know what that kid did to him, but this is seriously fucked up.”

“Don’t have an aneurysm, Stark,” Fury ordered. “If you got Vision to work in the first place, I’m sure you can get him to work again.”

“Fury?” Natasha called, hovering at the threshold of the parlor. “Coulson and I are upstairs with the kid.”

Mr. Fury nodded to show that he had heard her, but he continued to observe Other Tony and Steve. Other Tony was explaining to Steve very thoroughly what was going on and flapping his arms up and down and up and down, while Steve nodded through the explanation, even though he probably only understood half of what Other Tony had said.

Finally, Mr. Fury turned back towards Natasha and began walking up the stairs.

“Injuries?” He asked, sounding very calm. Mr. Fury was very talented at sounding calm when he was actually feeling very not calm. In fact, Mr. Fury was feeling very, very unnerved, which meant that he felt like something scary was going to happen to him.

“Half his face has no skin. At approximately the same time as Vision’s malfunction, he began spontaneously bleeding from the eyes, nose, and mouth. He hasn’t spoken to us since he locked himself in the bathroom, but it’s possible he had a conversation with Vision that triggered their breakdowns,” Natasha summarized neatly.

“Have the injuries been tended to?” Mr. Fury asked as the two turned the corner towards the sitting room that Phil and Tony-Bee were still in.

“The face has been bandaged, but as we don’t know what triggered the spontaneous bleeding, we haven’t been able to completely determine whether or not if he’s healthy.”

“Director Fury,” Phil acknowledged, without rising from his chair. “I trust that Agent Romanov has briefed you on the situation?”

“Correct, Agent Coulson,” Mr. Fury said. “Is the boy asleep?”

“As far as we can tell, sir.”

After Phil confirmed Mr. Fury’s suspicions, Mr. Fury knelt down to examine Tony-Bee more closely. “He claimed to be Tony Stark?”

“Yes, sir,” Natasha confirmed.

“Have you checked the lab for any evidence?”

“Yes, sir,” Phil told him. “Dr. Banner is currently investigating.”

Mr. Fury stood up slowly and brushed imaginary dirt off of his knees. “Coulson, you stay here.” He ordered. “Romanov, with me. We need to check on Dr. Banner.”

“Yes, sir,” Natasha replied, following Mr. Fury out of the room and down the stairs. “Do you really think that he found anything, sir?”

Mr. Fury snorted. “Not even hardly. But if he did, I had goddamned better be the first one to find out about it.”

In the lab, they found Bruce staring at the yellow tube and mumbling.

“Doctor,” Mr. Fury greeted cordially. “Any clues?

Bruce nearly jumped out of his skin, he was so surprised. “No, Director. Whatever was, uh, preserving the kid is all gone by now.”

“So there was a preservative?” Natasha asked. “He needed it to be as maintained as he is?”

Bruce adjusted his glasses anxiously. “I would guess so, but this, um, is a bit outside my comfort zone. I’d guess that whatever preservative was, uh, being used was used up a while ago, which is probably why he, um, lost his skin.”

Mr. Fury nodded expertly. “Is he at any risk of losing the rest of his skin without further physical trauma?”

“Not likely, but, if his skin gets too dry or irritated it could just, um, peel off.” Bruce glanced between Mr. Fury and Natasha. “Like a sunburn.”

“Have you found any data on why there is a small child hidden in Stark’s basement?” Mr. Fury asked shortly.

“Not, um, not so much. I doubt that it would be here, since To- the kid was not a public project of Howard’s,” Bruce muttered, tugging at his sweater sleeves.

“What do you mean by ‘project’, Dr. Banner?” Mr. Fury asked warily. When Mr. Fury was a bit younger, he had known Tony’s father, Howard Stark. The two of them had worked for the same agency for a few years, until Howard had died.

Bruce blinked. “Well, um, the kid claims to be Tony Stark, but since the real Tony Stark is, kind of, not a child, Howard probably had, um, a reason for building the kid? And it probably wasn’t, um, for the interest of scientific advancement.”

Mr. Fury nodded in acknowledgement. “Well, then, Howard probably kept his notes from the project around somewhere. Bastard was a packrat.” He made eye contact with Bruce. “Thank you for your help, Doctor. I’m going to go back upstairs to check on the child. You, stay down here and sweep the lab. Make sure you check every nook and cranny.”

Bruce nodded, then turned back towards the laboratory without speaking further.

Natasha and Mr. Fury exited the laboratory and proceeded up into the first floor.

“You still don’t think he’ll find anything,” Natasha noted.

Mr. Fury snorted. “Obviously not. I’m keeping him sequestered so that I don’t end up with two neurotic scientists on my hands.”

As he said this, the two walked past the parlor. Other Tony looked to be doing much better, which was probably due in part to the fact that Vision had recovered and was clinically going over every detail of his malfunction.

Natasha raised a single eyebrow.

“Oh, boy. Now instead of two neurotic scientists, I might just have one. One which can, conveniently, turn into an enormous green monster and could destroy this entire mansion,” Mr. Fury said stoically.

Natasha put the eyebrow back down.

As Mr. Fury and Natasha reached the landing for the stairs towards the second floor, Phil appeared at the second floor landing.

“Sir,” he said to Mr. Fury, “Tony’s awake.”

Mr. Fury said a very naughty word under his breath and ran up the stairs, with Natasha hot on his heels.

There, in the sitting area next to the window, was Tony-Bee. He was sitting up straight in his chair, unbandaged side of his face turned towards the window.

“It’s a beautiful day,” he said quietly, probably to himself.

“Tony?” Mr. Fury asked, approaching carefully. “Is that your name?”

Tony-Bee turned to face Mr. Fury, and Mr. Fury stepped away quickly.

Tony-Bee smiled and cocked his head.

“My friends call me Tony-Bee,” he said, sweet as sugar. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Mr. Fury,” he said, slowly sitting in the chair opposite Tony-Bee. “How do you feel, Tony-Bee?”

Tony-Bee smiled wider. His left eye opened all the way, but it seemed to be too far, farther than people should be able to open eyes. Like his eye was going to keep opening, forever and ever and ever and ever and ever, become a portal for some ancient power that shouldn’t exist.

“I’m fine, thank you,” Tony-Bee said politely. “How are you, Mr. Fury?”

Tony-Bee’s eye was glowing a sickening shade of green, green like Greek fire, green like poison ivy, green like dead fish, green like the plague.

Behind Phil and Natasha, Other Tony came bounding up the stairs. “Fury!” He yelled. “Fury, be careful! Vision thinks–” he slowed as he saw Mr. Fury and Tony-Bee already talking. “Oh.”

Tony-Bee’s left eye opened even wider. “Hello, Tony Stark.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the color of tony-bee's eye....................foreshadowing???????????????????????????????????????????????///////////////////?????????????????!1111111111111111????????  
> probably yeah


End file.
